The Art of Healing(and Other Things)
by cultivatingArtisan
Summary: After the final blast of energy that pulled Avalar's pieces back together, just what became of Sypro and Cynder? Discovered by a community of dragons that have been in hiding since the war began, the healing heroes are introduced to the townsfolk and realize something important: They know next to nothing about their own culture and people. (Expanded summary inside.)


The war has ended, the prophecies have all been fulfilled, and the world has been put back together by the sacred power that only a Purple Dragon can wield. But after the final blast, just where did Spyro and Cynder end up...?

Battered and bruised from the battle with Malefor, the two young dragons wake to find that not only are they still intact, but they've also been taken in by a community of dragons that has remained hidden since the war began. The inhabitants of Cliff Town pose an interesting new challenge for the healing heroes, as they find that they know next to nothing about draconic society and are thrust into a crash-course on socializing with their own kind. Saving the world is a piece of cake compared to trying to make friends your own age! Not to mention how strangely accepting the entire town is towards a certain black dragon...

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Hi there! Welcome to The Art Of Healing(and Other Things). This is a mostly lighthearted story about Spyro and Cynder picking up the pieces of lives broken by the touch of The Dark Master, and learning how to put those pieces back together, to finish the childhoods they were denied and start on the path towards adulthood... and hopefully make some friends along the way.

Of course, trying to re-enter society in a no longer war-torn Avalar means there's actually time now to realize that maybe you don't quite know _how_ to talk to other dragons, and you're not sure what's going to be expected of you as an adult- Fitting in can be awfully hard when you don't know the rules of the game! I've assembled a varied cast with lots of faces both new and old, so I hope you'll enjoy some of the characters and concepts that I've cobbled together here.

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The first thing Cynder is aware of is a deep, complete exhaustion. Her every bone, skull to wing spars, feels like lead weights, dragging her down into the darkness. The second thing is surprise that she's aware at all, since she had well expected to die at Spyro's side when he renewed the world.

The battle with Malefor comes back to her like a blow to her throbbing head and she whimpers despite herself, feeling the faintest tremble of fear in her weighty limbs.

Was she dead?

Where was Spyro?

"Are you having a nightmare?"

Cynder twitches at the sound of the strange voice, but feels no alarm. She's just too tired to panic, her tiny reservoir of remaining energy taken up by the shiver of fright.

"Hush now, you're safe. I'll make you well," purrs the voice, a warm breeze stirring around Cynder's stiff wings. She settles back into the darkness as the heat sings sweetly in her ears.

The next time she wakes up, she's much more aware, and the world seems to be coming back into focus around here. There are many noises around her now: A crackling fire, the slow bubble of some thick fluid, and a grinding she knows vaguely as a mortar and pestle. There's even color to the darkness, a certain redness that she eventually realizes is nothing but her own closed eyelids. They refuse to open without a fight, so she strains her hearing instead, breathing deeply to try and gauge her surroundings by sound and smell. There's definitely someone else in the room with her, and their soft humming seems to be the same as the voice she heard earlier. The herbs they're grinding are moist and pungent even at that distance, and the scent of dried plants and grasses is just as heavy in the warm air, but neither of them can entirely mask the blessedly distinct scent of dragon all around her.

(A fire dragon, she thinks, but it's hard to tell without looking when she's so near a hearth and surrounded by herbs.)

The scrape of scales on stone, a tail sweeping back and forth, confirms her theory. She's among friends.

...Unless they were just waiting for the former servant of Malefor to awaken so she could pay for her crimes.

That awful thought makes her jolt, left hind leg kicking involuntarily as her eyes pop open. She's momentarily blinded by the light of the fire, and the rustling has already drawn the attention of her unknown companion.

The fire dragon's head turns, they make eye contact, and both freeze in place. With more than a little surprise, Cynder realizes that this is a _female_ dragon- she's never met another hen before. This one's bright blue eyes are only a few shades off from her own, and the surprise they show is quickly replaced with relief. She prowls away from the mortar and pestle on light paws, and as approaches the fire, Cynder can see great thorny spikes on her shoulders and hips. It's surprising that the stranger doesn't immediately come over or even speak, pulling something from the fire instead. It's the source of the bubbling noise she heard, an iron pot easily big enough for Cynder to sit in. She watches with wary suspicion as the strange dragon turns her back, gaze surely burning a hole in the other female's deep burgundy back. Paying no mind to Cynder's stare, she finally turns and comes to sit beside her dried-grass nest, a stone bowl between her buttery gold paws. Her stomach and the lower half of her face are the same color, and her horns are short and woody where they sweep back from her head and into the fiery mass of curls she has in place of fins or spines. The stranger sits quietly, a kindly smile on her face as Cynder examines her, and Cynder is so busy doing so that she doesn't immediately notice that the bowl is being offered to her.

The young dragon ducks her head to sniff at it's steaming contents, hoping the gesture hides her embarrassed expression. It's full of a dark, thick liquid and the rich, salty scent of it goes straight to her head before nosediving into her stomach, which responds with an eager grumbling.

"I was a little afraid you would sleep until you were nothing but bones," says her attendant in place of greeting or explanation, and Cynder recognizes her voice as the one who spoke to her in the darkness. Has this dragon been taking care of her? Her voice is soft, nearly a whisper, and she can hear a wobble to it that sounds like the hen is holding back tears. "I'm so glad you finally woke up. Here, try and eat."

Taking a tentative lick, Cynder briefly entertains the paranoid idea that the broth might be poisoned, but the taste makes her head spin in the most pleasant way possible. Even if it is poisoned, she decides she doesn't care, nearly scorching tongue and throat in her haste to gulp down the savory concoction. Her companion laughs, stifling the trilling sound with one paw while she settles the other between Cynder's wings.

"Easy now," she giggles, paw warm and soft as she rubs the black dragon's back. "Don't choke- There are many pains I can cure, but soup in your lungs is not one of them! Breathe, young dragon, no one is going to take it from you."

Cynder coughs, paws shuffling in further embarrassment as she feels a drop of broth drip off of her jaw. She can only nod in response, forcing herself to blow across the bowl's surface before starting again at a slower pace. It's easier now that she has something else to think about: The spot of warmth between her shoulder blades. She's only ever felt Spyro's paws on her before, usually in the heat of battle or while they aided one another out of a tight spot. No other dragon had ever touched her so gently... Then she finds a hunk of meat in the soup, and the thought is dissolved by her trill of delight as she snaps it up. Warmth spreads from her belly as she eats, radiating clear to the tips of her toes, and she licks the bowl clean around one last scrap of mutton she's saving for last.

Then she notices the sparkles. There's something _glittering_ faintly in the meat, a subtle shimmer that ripples along the bottom of the bowl. Cynder's gaze snaps over to the largely silent fire dragon, who has the grace not to laugh at Cynder's shock once she realizes the problem.

"It's just crystal dust. We grind up little gem shards and add them to the food for our patients. It helps expedite the healing process without overloading the patient or wasting gems," she explains, cheerful and open, and Cynder feels well enough that she knows it must be true. Her limbs no longer feel so heavy and cold, so she snaps up the last bit of meat with a contented sigh.

"...Thank you," she says quietly, and the stranger positively beams with pleasure. "Who are you? Can you tell me where I am?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, that completely slipped my mind. My name is Caroline. I'm a Healer, formerly of the Peace Keeper corps- Or, er, of the former Peace Keepers corps? Hm. Well either way, my brother Ulric found you unconscious in a crater in the meadows a days flight from here."

A shudder runs down her spine, and she tries to shuffle her wings. They're still stiff and all she can tell by feel is that they've been spread out to either side of her body, but she doesn't have the energy to examine them just yet.

"And where is _here_, exactly?"

"Cliff Town!" is the bright, enthusiastic reply, but Caroline catches herself and continues more softly. "Well, the name is a bit of a joke, really, since we actually live _inside_ the cliffs, but it's a cozy little place and we do like it here, even if we didn't have much of a choice when that big purple brute's army came calling. But you and your friend took care of that nasty situation quite nicely, didn't you?"

Cynder hangs her head with shame, not meeting the healer's eye. She had as good as personally driven this gentle dragon from her home, and now here the hen was speaking so kindly to her and caring for her wounds. Then her brain catches up with her ears, and her head jerks back up just in time to see Caroline's smile fade to something softer.

"_I _thank _you_, Cynder," she purrs, arching her neck and touching her nose to Cynder's brow. The tenderness of the gesture is surprising, but it makes her chest swell with a strange, warm feeling that has nothing to do with her healing wounds. She can't bring herself to pull away, no matter how foreign the touch. "You two are so young, but you have _so_ much strength... Perhaps all of us can go home soon! I do so miss the sun."

Caroline pulls away, and Cynder can only stare at her with wide eyes, trying to find her own voice again.

"Both?" she chokes out, hopeful. "You found Spyro too, right? Is he okay? Where is he, can I see him-"

There's a warm, dainty paw on Cynder's back again before she can work herself up into hysterics, the gentle pressure stilling the weak but frantic thrash of her tail.

"Be calm! Be calm, Cynder. It's alright. All is well, the purple dragon was found beside you. He's resting in another room, but he hasn't woken up yet," murmurs the healer, wings halfway unfurled as she hushes her patient. At Cynder's stricken look, she hastens to add, "His injuries are not severe. He is cut and bruised, and one of his wings was badly broken, but exhaustion is by far his biggest problem. Never have I _seen_ a dragon so drained before."

Both of them sag in relief, one after the other- Cynder for Spyro's well being, and the healer for Cynder's.

The black dragon goes quiet for a while, and Caroline is happy to respect her silence. It's surely a lot to take in after everything that had happened. When Cynder's head droops all of a sudden, slumping down to rest on her fore paws, the fire dragon just smiles fondly and gets to her feet. Her worry for Spyro had been the only thing keeping her awake after her meal, and now knowing he was safe, it really wasn't surprising that she'd fallen asleep again so quickly. Tiptoeing away, Caroline banks the fire to burn less bright and then gathers up the mortar she had been working on earlier, creeping away with it and leaving Cynder to get some rest.

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And so it begins! I hope there isn't a lot of visible concern over Cynder's behavior right now- You gotta understand, she's a little in shock, so she might be acting a bit more timid than expected... She's aware of it, and it won't last long.

Writing about these dragons is an absolute joy to me, and if you have any questions or even particular topics you want to see explored or addressed in this context, or even if you've got a dragon you want to make a cameo, go ahead and let me know in the comments or send me an ask on tumblr at CultivationArtisan. (You can also find some art of the cast there, but there are spoilers too!)

Happy flying, my young dragons! Hope to hear from you soon!


End file.
